


hold it steady (I won't lose it)

by orphan_account



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:16:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Becky's only going to be one state over, but that's still too far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold it steady (I won't lose it)

**Author's Note:**

> obviously i took many liberties with this one, enjoy

The sound of her shower running when she gets in from her doctor's appointment makes Amy happy. It's just past ten o'clock and the body in her bed has finally made it to the bathroom, even though Amy's been up for hours. The kitchen is clean, there's no dirty dishes and no nice smells, so she assumes Becky hasn't gotten as far as breakfast yet. Right on cue, the shower shuts off and five minutes later Becky's standing in the doorway.

“I thought I heard you come in.” Amy just smiles in response. “I missed you this morning,” she continues as she makes her way over to plant a kiss on Amy's lips, “I don't like waking up without you.”

Amy giggles a little, “Believe me, I would rather be there when you woke up than at the doctor's.”

“How was your appointment anyway?” Becky wanders to the fridge to look for something to eat.

“Alright. I should be ok to start rehab next week.” 

Becky closes the fridge and turns to face her, “Seriously?” Her face breaks into a grin and she continues, “I'm so proud of you.”

She's not walking as well as she used to, but the limp is hardly noticeable now, more a lack of strength than anything. Still, any bit of strength she had in her legs at all leaves her the moment Becky pushes her gently into the counter and kisses her.

-

It's all going well, until it isn't. Amy's knee is still healing, making progress, but it means she's not going to be joining the NWSL for a while. Still, she waits with anticipation to find out where she's been allocated. 

Chicago Red Stars. 

Beside her name she sees Boxxy and Keelin, but no Becky. Her heart drops further and further as she scans the list until she reaches Kansas City. Nicole Barnhart. Lauren Cheney. Becky Sauerbrunn. 

She's just one state over, but that's still too far.

They don't really talk about what it means for them, until Becky mentions it in passing and Amy brushes it off. The fact that her gut instinct is to avoid the conversation should tell her it isn't going to be a good one. They dance around the topic for weeks after that until Becky brings it up again.

She doesn't say that she's breaking up with Amy, but Amy knows.

“Long distance is hard, that's what Tobin and Alex always say, don't they?”

“There's a difference. They've got an ocean between them. You're only going to be one state away.” One state further than she wants her to be.

“Amy.” She's ending things between them, temporarily or otherwise, Amy isn't sure yet. Becky presses her down onto the futon and kisses her hard, and suddenly their future together is clear. Becky kisses her like it's the last time, then says goodbye with a voice full of sadness and eyes full of love, and Amy can't be angry.

She doesn't even let herself be sad until she's alone in her apartment. Then she falls apart.

-

It doesn't get better with time. Amy doesn't know how, but there's a disproportionately large number of blonde girls around Chicago, and every single one reminds her of Becky. There's one in particular, that she sees every other day at the gym, who catches her eye and smiles, but Amy shakes off the feeling in her stomach and focuses on strengthening her leg. She's getting better, and she's getting stronger every day, and she wishes Becky was around to see it happen.

That's never going to happen, but Amy just wishes there was somebody around to be proud of her every once in a while.

-

Amy isn't the type to pick up girls at a bar—she isn't the type to even go to a bar alone—except now Becky is five hundred miles away and it's been three weeks, but her heart's still aching. She's never been good at this kind of thing, not that she's necessarily shy, just that she doesn't like talking when there's nothing to say.

Becky understood it; Becky was just like her in that respect.

The woman she meets recognises her. She doesn't know her name, not many people do, but she knows the face, and Amy can see the second it clicks with her.

“Soccer, right?”

Amy nods and smiles, and then decides to make things a little easier for both of them. “Amy.” She extends a hand, unsure if that's the common courtesy for this kind of situation.

To her credit, the woman takes Amy's hand and shakes it without laughing at her for her slightly sub-par social skills. “Liz. It's nice to meet you Amy.”

Her night takes off from there, and with a couple of drinks courtesy of Liz she ends up awkwardly swaying on the dancefloor, but at least she's trying.

Her attempts must be effective enough, because Liz leads her out of the bar by the hand and she ends up on her doorstep.

As she goes to follow Liz into the apartment she hesitates for a moment, because she doesn't do this. She never goes home with anybody right after she meets them, but then Amy remembers the tone of Becky's voice as she said goodbye and that's the deciding factor for her.

Liz is pretty and gentle and she kisses her in such a way that Amy manages to forget about Becky for a little while. She forgets about her until they stop kissing, and instead of taking it further, Liz curls against Amy and falls asleep.

She wakes up in a strange bed with a pounding headache and it takes a few minutes to register what happened the night before. 

Liz (she thinks that's it) is at the table in the kitchen, focused on the newspaper when Amy walks in. She doesn't look up right away, and Amy's glad, because the glasses she's wearing are too much like Becky's for her to think straight right now.

Her “Goodbye,” is hasty, but she leaves with Liz's number and a promise to call. Even though she's just like Becky, Amy thinks she could really like Liz.

Maybe she likes her because she's like Becky, but she tries to shake that thought as soon as it appears.

She makes the call three days later, after she watches Kansas City lose to Portland in one of the most exciting matches of the season. Liz comes round, and any shred of the confidence that came with a few drinks is miles away now. She's restless and awkward, until Liz covers her lips to silence her, and pushes her back onto the futon. Amy closes her eyes, but then everything feels too familiar, so she opens them again. It doesn't seem fair to pretend it's Becky she's kissing.

-

Things move slowly with Liz at first, and then two months in, all of a sudden Amy says, “I love you,” and finds herself surprised that she means it.

-

Her first national team camp after her knee surgery is when she first sees Becky again. Honestly she's surprised it's taken this long.

“You look good.”

“So do you. How have you been?” 

“I've been good.”

“That's good.”

There's silence for a moment before Amy blurts out, “I miss you,” right as Becky asks, “Do you want to go get a drink sometime?”

Amy agrees, but she's thinking of Liz, and how she's going to tell Becky. They've been running a race in her head for months, and she's noticing now that Liz has almost caught up. Becky would just have to stumble and that would be it.

-

Becky reaches for Amy's hand late on in the night, like it took her three drinks to work up the courage, and it almost kills Amy how quickly she shoots her down without thinking. Maybe Liz is going for the overtake.

“I'm seeing someone.” Becky recoils like she's been burned.

“Someone?” A nod. “How long?”

“Four months.”

Becky fiddles with the straw in her drink, like she's debating whether or not to ask the question. She asks it anyway.

“Do you love her?” 

Amy nods before she really registers the question, and then scrambles to fix the damage in Becky’s eyes, “Not like I loved you. Not like I love you.”

The hurt doesn't leave completely, but there's something there that looks a little bit like hope, or else she's misinterpreting.

Becky leads Amy back to her own hotel room and kisses her outside the door. Amy's eyes are still closed when she feels hot breath on her ear and a whisper of, “I hope she treats you right.”

She was misinterpreting. It wasn't hope. It was finality.

When she opens her eyes she's alone in the hallway.


End file.
